603 West 45th Street off Eleventh Avenue
about $90 each for a group of six, with drinks, with tip; dances were separate
When a friend of mine told me about an upcoming girls’ night out that involved going to a strip club, I immediately said yes after I confirmed that they wanted to see girls stripping, not boys. Just right up my alley because, really, naked boys are not as nice to look at. Speaking from experience, I told them that we can only go to Penthouse on the West Side highway because it’s the only club that will allow a group of man-less women to enter. It’s a ridiculous rule, but we had no choice in the matter. I was told that girls do not buy as many drinks as guys, and if they’re not that drunk, they won’t be buying as many dances. Whoever came up with that had obviously no clue who we were.
Our table was for 7:30pm. Our party of six wasn’t completed until 8, but they let us sit and wait at our table next to a pole dancer. We all decided that an expensive bottle of red wine might just make us too sleepy, so we ordered our martinis. Drinks were $20 each even if you were just getting vodka with soda.
At Robert’s Steakhouse, they didn’t discriminate: my friend’s first lap dance was at $40, the same price charged to the guy sitting at the next table wearing a crisp suit. The girls dancing in the corner told us they can’t come to our table because they don’t do lap dances, so we had to wait for the others to approach us. After several drinks, we were brave enough to go up to a girl we liked and pay for our own. After more drinks, they just came up to offer us a dance.
But this is a review of the food, and I must tell you that a hundred-dollar porterhouse steak is much better with some form of entertainment. We only managed to finish one porterhouse and I felt bad when we had to leave the other one barely touched. I suppose I could have sat there and finished it for the next two hours, but my friends were eager to go downstairs and meet the ladies. (One said, You don’t want to smell like meat when the girls dance for you.) We had the steak packed to go, but after several hours of giving away Andrew Jacksons, no one knew who ended up taking the extra food home. After several hours of $20 drinks, too, no one knew what the hell was really going on. I do remember the delicious bowl of Brussels sprouts. The creamed spinach and roasted potatoes were also good matches to our meaty, charbroiled steak. Whoever was in the kitchen wasn’t distracted by the view we were getting.
Adam Perry Lang, the restaurant’s executive chef, also co-owns Daisy May’s BBQ a block away. He ages and cooks the steaks in a broiler with two different temperatures so that the meat gets seared the right way without sacrificing the juiciness of the inside. And boy, were they juicy. I love my meat bloody and buttery, and Robert’s Steakhouse served a mean plate of it.
Be thankful that this is only a review of the food.